


Storm at Sea

by clgfanfic



Category: War of the Worlds (TV)
Genre: M/M, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-13
Updated: 2012-11-13
Packaged: 2017-11-18 13:32:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,501
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/561597
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clgfanfic/pseuds/clgfanfic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When you lose something you know what it means to you.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Storm at Sea

**Author's Note:**

> Originally published in the zine Business Associates #1 under the pen name Laura Grigsby and Gillian Holt.
> 
> The slash version of Wipeout.

_"If they'd just found a body."_

 

          Harrison Blackwood, enigmatic leader of the secret Blackwood Project, gripped the brass railing of the Coast Guard Cutter and tried to ignore the faint uneasiness that refused to stop nagging along the edges of his thoughts.  Norton had picked up alien transmissions on Catalina Island, and Harrison, along with Ironhorse, had headed out to investigate the small land mass off the Los Angeles coast.  They found nothing, nothing at all.  It was wrong.

          Glancing over at the colonel, Blackwood allowed himself a thin smile.  Despite the fact that the soldier was a full-blooded Native American, he looked completely at home, leaning against the railing at the bow.  For the moment he looked more like some dark pirate than an Army Special Forces officer.  And Paul Ironhorse was a handsome man.

          Three inches shorter than Blackwood himself, the six foot soldier was in perfect shape, a medium build hiding much of the man's strength while at the same time giving him an edge in speed and maneuverability.  Short black hair fluttered in the breeze, adding a boyish look to the handsome, angular face.  Black eyes looked up at Harrison, a smile dancing in the depths.  The lure of the Pacific could call even an Oklahoma Cherokee.

          It was hard for the scientist to believe that they'd actually become lovers, or that it began with what they both thought was Ironhorse's deathbed confession.  But the colonel had spoken his feelings for the astrophysicist, and Harrison in turn admitted to his own desires.  With Paul's life ebbing away, the scientist had kissed the man, sealing their future in whatever life it was lived.  Thankfully, the wound was not as bad as either had thought and Paul had recovered completely.  They began their sexual relationship while he was still recuperating, and that had been... Eight months ago.  Blackwood shook his head.  It was just damned amazing.

          He moved down to join Ironhorse.  "How much longer?" Harrison asked, gripping the railing next to Paul.

          "We should be in Santa Barbara in about an hour.  The Coast Guard's in no rush.  We'll meet a chopper at Vandenberg Air Force Base and fly to Ft. Streeter.  We should be back to the Cottage by dark."

          When Blackwood made no reply, Ironhorse turned his attention from the two dolphins racing alongside the Cutter to study the taller man.  The curly light-brown hair was in total disarray, and the blue eyes slightly haunted.  The soldier wanted to take those shadows away, but even when they were together, Blackwood could not completely escape the memories of the covert war they all fought against the alien invaders from Mor'tax.

          Harrison fidgeted under the scrutiny, glancing around to watch the Coast Guardsmen going about their duties.  From another section of the the boat the astrophysicist heard the colonel's elite Special Forces squad, Omega, laughing.  For them at least, a false alarm meant that there were no friends to be buried.  He wondered why Ironhorse wasn't with them.

          "Did you want to be alone?" he asked the officer.

          The Cherokee shook his head.  "No, I just thought it might do them some good to relax without me around."

          Blackwood nodded.  "I think we missed something, Paul."

          Before the colonel could respond, a voice interrupted, calling to them from the railing Blackwood had vacated.  "Dr. Blackwood, Colonel Ironhorse, we have a call from a Mr. Drake.  He says it's urgent."

          The soldier's black eyebrows climbed in concern, and he headed for the stairs, Blackwood right behind him.  Entering the wheelhouse, the communications man handed over a headset.

          "Ironhorse here," the colonel said slipping it on and adjusting the mike in front of his mouth.

          "Harrison with you?" came Norton's voice.

          "Yes, he's here," Paul said, motioning Blackwood closer so he could hear as well.

          "Okay, listen, I just picked up another set of three transmissions, two from Anacapa Island.  That's just off the coast of Santa Barbara.  The other was a reply from a location out at sea.  I'm guessing, but I think there are two teams of aliens working here, one on Catalina and one on Anacapa, and a headquarters out on a boat someplace."

          "Did you locate the boat?"

          "No, the burst was too short, but I think they're on their way to pick up the guys on Anacapa.  I mean, I don't know, but that's what it feels like."

          "You're feelings have been pretty good so far," Blackwood said.

          "Right," Ironhorse concurred.  "We'll check it out.  Inform General Wilson, just in case.  Have him arrange for a unit at Vandenberg to be put on stand-by."

          "Gotcha.  And, Colonel, you and the Doc be careful, huh?"

          "Like always, Norton," Harrison said into the mike.

          Removing the headset, Ironhorse looked from a concerned Blackwood to the commander.  "We're going to make an unplanned stop at Anacapa Island."

          "Sir, that island is a protected habitat.  No one's allowed to be there without special permission, and then it's limited to scientists, professors, and university students for the most part."

          "Just the same, commander, we'll be dropping by – Presidential authority."

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          Ironhorse waited with Harrison while the Omega Squad finished a sweep of the east end of the island.  It was a small land mass, but large enough for the creatures to hide if they suspected that the soldiers were there looking for them.  The colonel hoped their activities would look like the staged military exercises they were supposed to, but even that might be enough to spook the Mor'taxans if they knew about the island's protected status.

          The radio crackled.  "Apple one, this is Apple two," Sergeant Coleman said, her voice slightly agitated.

          "Apple one."

          "Colonel, we've located a small compound.  It looks like it was occupied by a group of students and professors from the community college in Santa Barbara.  There's no sign of them, but there's lots of evidence of aliens."

          "Damn," the colonel breathed.  "All right, set up a search grid and start working your way out from the compound."

          "Apple one, this is Apple three," Stravakos' voice interrupted.  "We have a location, repeat, we have a location."

          The soldier gripped the radio tighter.  "Coordinates?"

          "On the beach in grid seven-three.  That's seven-three, over?"

          "Roger seven-three.  Set up a defensive perimeter, but do not, I repeat, do not engage unless fired upon.  Do they look like students?"

          "Roger, Apple one.  We have seven so far."

          "Let's go," Ironhorse said to the astrophysicist, heading off through the brush toward the beach.  Blackwood followed.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          "What are they doing?" the colonel asked.

          "I'm not sure, but it looks like they're loading bee hives into that rowboat.  Take a look," the astrophysicist said, passing the field glasses over.

          Ironhorse took them, watching the human-blended aliens for several seconds.  "That's what they are, but what do they want bees for?  And why _these_ bees?"

          "I wish I knew, Colonel."

          "Now what, sir?"  Sergeant Stravakos asked.  The young man shifted the Uzi around on its strap for easier access.

          "We wait for them to group on the beach and we attack," Ironhorse said.  "Make sure everyone is spread out.  I want a tight semi-circle field of fire."

          "We need to make sure at least one of the hives is salvaged.  We have to know what's so special about them it drew the aliens out here."

          "Right," Ironhorse said.  Turning to the sergeant he ordered, "Pass the word. Now, we wait."

          The young man nodded and eased off through the heavy brush, leaving the two men alone to watch what used to be seven human beings.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          Nearly an hour later Ironhorse waited anxiously as nine aliens slowly gathered near the larger Zodiac.  They spoke in their native language, the guttural pops and slurs incomprehensible to the observing humans.  Keying the radio twice, Ironhorse heard the two single clicks in reply.  The Omegans were ready to move on his order.  His attention focused on the beach, Ironhorse was unaware of the final three aliens just now arriving with their cargo, another hive resting on a wooden pallet the invaders had stuck poles through to create a crude carryall.

          "We have been discovered!" they yelled, the words carrying down the hillside to their comrades on the beach, who began to scatter.

          Ironhorse rolled, his Beretta seeming to materialize in his hands.  Blackwood scrambled over, as surprised as the soldier to find three aliens nearly on top of them.

          "Now!" Ironhorse yelled into the radio before shoving it into a pocket and springing to his feet, firing as he did.  One of the students/aliens fell, toppling the hive from its resting place.  The other two invaders dove for cover, then began firing back.

          "Harrison, go down to the left.  Coleman's group is there.  You'll be safe."

          "What about you?" the scientist asked, ready to refuse.

          "I'm going hunting," he said, scrambling off into the undergrowth before Blackwood could object.

          Cursing the soldier under his breath, Harrison did as Ironhorse had directed and began moving down the easy slop toward the sand.  The Omegans had already destroyed six of the nine aliens, the remaining three taking refuge in an outcropping of craggy rocks that stretched from the beach well out into the Pacific.  With the tide going out, they had ample places to hole up.  In teams of two the Omegans began scouring the formation.

          Someone grabbing the shoulder of his jacket stopped Blackwood, his hands coming up automatically in a gesture of self-defense, but it was the pretty blonde sergeant.  "Doctor, if you'll come with me.  The Coast Guard's on the way.  ETA is five minutes."

          Above them, Harrison heard an exchange of gunfire and was relatively certain Ironhorse's was the final shot.  The Omegans, routing two of the aliens, quickly dispatched them, their melting bodies joining the froth of the tide swirling around the rocks.  The sight of the Cutter rounding the point of the island and bearing down on the beach spooked the last of nine aliens and Stravakos quickly shot it.

          They had secured the beach, and the hives were still sitting undisturbed in the small rowboat tied off to the Zodiac.

          Three of the Omegans started up the hill, intending to help the Colonel, when Coleman gasped and pointed.  "Over there!"

          About twenty-five yards up the beach, on a twenty foot cliff that overlooked the beach, Ironhorse and the last alien were locked in a hand to hand fight.  The Uzi Coleman carried was trained on the two figures, but there was no clear shot.

          The alien, in the body of a relatively thin young man, was still physically stronger than the soldier and seemed to be getting the upper hand.  Blackwood felt himself go numb with fear.  If the alien managed to subdue the colonel, even partially, it would be able to blend with him.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          Ironhorse growled in frustration as he struggled to maneuver his Beretta for one good shot, but the alien had a grip on his wrist that he could not overcome.  The sickening sound of the Mor'taxan's third arm freeing itself drowned out the tide, and the soldier watched the three suction-tip fingers pressing against the thin white T-shirt as they emerged out of the human host's chest.  In a moment the alien would be able to abandon that human body and take Ironhorse's.  There was nothing the soldier could do to stop it either, unless…

          Summoning up all the strength he could, Ironhorse focused, yelled, and dropped, jerking himself and the aliens toward the ground, one leg, folding into his chest, pistoned out, catching the man/thing in the mid-section and catapulting it over the side of the cliff.  The monster, refusing to let go of the colonel's wrist, dragged Ironhorse over.

          The last thought Ironhorse had as he felt the alien catch against the jagged rocks before bouncing off into the ocean was concern for Blackwood.  The man didn't take loss very well.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          "No!" Harrison yelled, already sprinting down the beach as the two men fell from the short bluff.  Reaching the site where the two men had entered the water, and heedless of the slippery rocks, Blackwood scrambled out to where a smear of green slime told him he was right.  "Colonel!" he yelled, scanning the choppy surf.  "Ironhorse!"

          In the distance he caught sight of another boat, and wondered if it was the floating alien headquarters Norton had told them about.

          The Omegans who had followed the scientist spread out, searching for their commander.  Three of the men stripped off their weapons and jackets, diving into the cold water, submerging and surfacing repeatedly as they checked the bottom.  His trembling legs no longer able to support him, Blackwood sank down on the wet rocks and watched, a growing sense of panic threatening to overwhelming him.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          Stravakos, Coleman, and the Coast Guard commander stood on the beach, waiting while the remaining Omegans completed their clean up of the island.  A chopper had arrived earlier, depositing the remaining civilian members of the Blackwood Project, who conducted an investigation of the compound and the hives.

          Alverez signaled that they were ready, and the two sergeants looked back to the astrophysicist, still sitting on the rocks.  The tide was coming in, and before long he would be cut off from the beach.  Just off the formation, Coast Guard divers continued to search for a body.

          "We need to get them back to the Cottage," Coleman said, not wanting to believe that Ironhorse was dead.  Blackwood had agreed with the Coast Guard commander that there was nothing more they could do on the island, but the sergeant wasn't convinced.  It just felt wrong, but Blackwood was in charge.

          "Let's go get him," Stravakos said.

          Together the two Omegans climbed out to join Blackwood.  "Sir, the clean-up's complete, Dr. McCullough and Mr. Drake are finished, and the Coast Guard's ready to go," Stravakos said.

          Looking up at the pair, Blackwood fought back the immediate impulse to tell them what he thought of the idea.  Instead, he stood stiffly and followed them back to the beach.

          The commander looked uncomfortable, but motioned them toward a launch before he said, "We have the drift calculated now.  We should be able to locate the body."

          Blackwood felt his stomach roll and the muscles across his shoulders tightened further, tugging at his jaw muscles and making them twitch.  "Commander—"

          "Dr. Blackwood, I'm very sorry, but your land search didn't turn up a body and the divers couldn't find anything either.  In all likelihood we have a drowning here.  If that's the case, the colonel Ironhorse's body will wash up on a public beach, and I for one would like to avoid that, if at all possible.

          Blackwood nodded.  The man was right.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          Suzanne McCullough sat curled up on the living room couch and watched Blackwood as he stared into the low burning fire.  It had been three days since they'd lost Ironhorse and the man was slipping further into a depression that the microbiologist couldn't see a way out of.  The Coast Guard had returned to the island to search again when Ironhorse's body failed to appear when and where they expected it, but found no more than they had the first time.  Their investigation of the hives had turned up nothing they could use.  Without Harrison's help, she wasn't sure they could find anything.  The man had an uncanny understanding of the aliens.  It wasn't fair.  They needed Paul.  Harrison needed him.

          Earlier she'd called Santa Barbara, but the people at the City College hadn't been much help either.  The field biologist most intimately connected to the research being done on the Anacapa island bees was at a conference in Denver.  Suzanne had called him there, but Dr. Larry Canfield wasn't able to come up with any reasons why 'terrorists' might want his bees.  They were just normal bees.  Frustrated, she'd returned to the comfort of te living room to wait.  Sooner or later the aliens would make another move.

          "Harrison?" she said softly, "I'm going to get some coffee, would you like some?"

          "No," he said, distractedly, then added, "thank you."

          Standing, the microbiologist left, bringing back a second cup anyway.  Handing it to Blackwood, he accepted it without comment, but held it in his lap.  Sitting down on the thick carpet near the hearth, Suzanne rested a hand on the man's knee.

          "Harrison, this isn't helping.  I understand the loss, God, I feel it, too, but we can't give up.  We can't let the aliens win."

          Blackwood's blue eyes swung slowly from the flames to Suzanne's face.  "I left him up there alone," he said in a whisper. 

          "You did what he told you to do.  You did the right thing.  Paul's a trained soldier, you're not.  If you'd stayed with him, he would have been worrying about you and that might have gotten both of you killed."

          "But if I had stayed, he might be alive."

          Suzanne sighed.  "Maybe, maybe not, but Harrison, we have to keep going."

          Blackwood handed her the coffee and pushed himself up.  "I know, but I just can't let it go."  Turning, he stalked out of the room.

          Setting the two cups aside, Suzanne scrambled to her feet and chased after him, catching Blackwood at the front door.  "Harrison, where are you going?"

          "For a drive.  I need to clear my head," he told her.

          "Take one of the Omegans.  Please?  If you don't, I'm going to have to tell Derriman," she threatened.  Ironhorse was dead, and there was no way she was going to lose another friend.

          Blackwood sighed.  "All right."

          She watched as the astrophysicist walked over to the guest house that held the Army detachment at the Cottage.  He knocked and entered.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          "Dr. Blackwood, what can we do for you?" Sergeant Derriman, Omega's NCO, asked.

          "I need a volunteer.  I'm going for a drive and Dr. McCullough insists I take along a babysitter."

          "I'll go, sir," Stravakos and Coleman both said in unison.

          Derrimen looked from the scientist to the pair.  Coleman was actually in charge of the unit with Ironhorse missing, even if he was senior in rank.  "Alexander, why don't you tag along."

          Coleman glowered at Derriman, but didn't object.  He was right, her duty was at the Cottage, preparing to meet and brief the Colonel's replacement.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          Stravakos shifted nervously in the passenger seat of the Bronco.  Glancing out the window, he watched the Pacific rolling gently along the beach as they proceeded south.

          "Something wrong, sergeant?" Blackwood asked.  He had never really associated with the Omega Squad, or reached a position where he could call them friends.  Funny, he thought.  Some of the people had been with them for over a year.

          "No, sir, not exactly," the young man said.

          Alexander Stravakos was a powerfully built man, his black hair, brown eyes, and olive completion giving him a decidedly ethnic look.  Raised in foster homes, the sergeant never had the opportunity to know his Greek heritage.  Joining the Army when he was eighteen, Stravakos had never quite fit in until he joined Ironhorse's band of alien fighters, but in Omega he had grown into a fine NCO and one of the squad's leaders.

          Blackwood nodded.  "Is it standard Army practice to be evasive, Sergeant?"

          Stravakos looked at the scientist.  "No, sir."  He paused a moment, then asked, "We are going to Santa Barbara, aren't we?"

          "Yes."

          "And you're going to rent a boat there and go out to that island, aren't you?"

          "Yes."

          "Do you really think that's such a good idea?  I mean, there's no way the colonel can be on that island.  We searched it end to end, and the Coast Guard—"

          "Do you believe colonel Ironhorse is dead?"

          The sergeant hesitated.  "To tell you the truth, Sir.  No.  I mean, I know he is, but there's a part of me that can't believe that anything could kill the man.  Ahh, that doesn't make any sense."

          Blackwood nodded silently.  "Yes, it does.  I feel like that myself.  My head tells me he's gone, but everything else is saying he can't be, that it was too fast, too easy."

          "Yes, sir.  If they'd just found a body."

          They drove on for several minutes, both men kept company by his own thoughts, then Harrison sighed.  "I just need to see it again.  I need to know he isn't there.  Then I can say goodbye."

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          Negotiating for a boat to take them to the island was more difficult than Blackwood imagined, and he had to change his story three times and raise the remuneration accordingly before he managed to talk one of the locals into it.  Once it was arranged, Blackwood called the Cottage, his conscience telling him that he owed Suzanne an apology when they returned.  He'd stormed out without a mobile phone and she and Norton would have every right to be worried and upset with he and the sergeant out of contact for so long.

          "Harrison?" came the anxious voice on the other end of the line.

          "Suzanne, what's wrong?" he asked.

          "Where have you been, we've been trying to find you for hours!"

          "What's wrong?" he asked again.

          "You're not going to believe this, but the Coast Guard called, and—"

          "Paul?"

          "Not exactly, but—"

          "What?"

          "Let me tell you," the microbiologist said.  "It seems that the Coast Guard got a call from one of the oil derricks off the Santa Barbara coast.  They spotted what they think is a fire on Anacapa island."

          "A fire?"

          "Yes!  Harrison, if Paul is alive, how else would he try to let someone know he's out there?"

          "You're right!  My God, he might be alive."  Blackwood grinned at Stravakos when the young man's head snapped around at the proclamation.  "Look, the sergeant and I are in Santa Barbara—"

          "Why doesn't that surprise me?" she asked.

          "We've rented a boat.  I'm going out there."

          "Harrison, the Coast Guard already has a Patrol boat headed out there."

          "Suzanne, I have to go."

          "Be careful," she said.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          Harrison and Starvakos found the Coast Guard patrol boat anchored off the section of beach where they had encountered the aliens.  Crewmen were on the beach, some shoveling to extinguish a large bon-fire that poured a black-grey smoke into the air.  Given the size of the blaze, it was no wonder the crew on the oil derrick spotted it in the darkness, or, if they had missed it then, the rising smoke was unavoidable in the otherwise clear blue sky.  Two men knelt in the sand, working over a prone figure, and Blackwood felt the muscles draw his ribs in tight, making it difficult to breath.  What if they were too late?  What if he were permanently disabled?  What if—?

          The boat captain eased up alongside the patrol boat, a Coast Guardsman helping the scientist and Stravakos aboard.  "Dr. Blackwood?"

          "Yes," Harrison said.  "Is he alive?  I want to get over there—"

          "Sir, Colonel Ironhorse is alive, and the medics are working on him now.  We called for a helicopter to transport him to the hospital.  That'll save us some time.  They should be here anytime now."

          "I want to get over there," Blackwood reiterated.

          "Yes, sir," the man breathed, clearly wishing he didn't have to deal with demanding civilians.  What the hell were they doing on a protected island, anyway? "If you'll come with me, I'll take you."

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          Harrison was in the low surf before the small inflatable launch reached the shore.  Slogging through the water, he reached the beach and forced himself over to where the two men were working.

          The first thing Blackwood noticed was the splinted leg, and the white bandage wrapping Ironhorse's head.  A blanket had been tucked abound the man's shoulders, but he still trembled with a chill despite the mild temperature.  Shock, the scientist surmised.  Dropping onto his knees next to the injured man, Blackwood felt the same numbness that had possessed him three days before.  "How is he," he managed to ask.

          "He's dehydrated," the medic began, nodding to the bag of solution they had draining into the soldier through an IV line.  "Suffering some from exposure.  It gets cold out here at night.  Wrenched, maybe broken ankle, and a pretty bad concussion.  He's shocky as hell, but I think we found him in time.  Once they get him in the hospital they'll be able to stabilize his vitals."

          Harrison nodded.  Dehydration… exposure… shock…  My God, how could we just leave him here?

          "How the hell he managed to find all that drift wood and build that bonfire is a miracle.  There's no way he could have walked on that leg.  He must have crawled," the second medic said, the respect and admiration for the man evident.  "We found him passed out right here.  Damn smart move.  If the guys on the derrick hadn't seen the smoke he might not have made it another night."

          One of the crew walked over to tell then that the helicopter had radioed.  Their ETA was less than five minutes.

          "I want to go with him," Blackwood said, the tone leaving no room for disagreement.

          One of the medics cleared his throat, then said, "Sir, it'll depend on the chopper boys.  They might not have room for you."

          Blackwood's jaws ground shut, but he nodded.  There was nothing he could do anyway.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          Harrison spent the return trip back to Santa Barbara sitting along the port side of the motorboat while the captain piloted over calm seas.  Stravakos remained with the man, the pair talking in quiet voices.  Blackwood appreciated the soldier's consideration.  The numbness was wearing off, and several conflicting emotions warred for his attention.  He would have made lousy company.

          Some of what he felt left the astrophysicist ashamed of himself, but, he tried to reason with himself.  They were just the natural reactions of loss.  He was mad at Ironhorse.  And that was entirely irrational.  There was no way the man had planned for this to happen.  He hadn't planned on falling off a cliff and nearly killing himself, and he certainly hadn't planned to return from the dead to haunt Blackwood.  The scientist even knew why he was mad.  It made him guilty.  He was telling himself he should have stayed.  That he should have found the man, but that too was irrational.  Love, he decided, was irrational.

          Blackwood held that thought, turned it over in his mind, and studied it with the objective eye of the astronomer who gazed at his favorite star while at the same time nurturing an abiding passion for the distant object.  Slowly realization dawned.  Harrison Blackwood had done what he had always done when faced with a loss he didn't want to accept.  He'd run, literally and figuratively.  He hadn't allowed himself to really mourn – that would have required he accept the fact that Ironhorse was gone.  And he had allowed the search to be called off before they had a body.  No wonder the Omegans had looked angry when he let the Coast Guard talk them off the island.

          His eyes staring into the clear blue sky above them, Harrison thanked whatever powers that might exist for another chance.  Perhaps it was the 'Grandfather' Ironhorse sometimes referred to who had watched over the man, or maybe it was just luck, but whatever the source, Blackwood promised himself he wouldn't let what he had learned about himself slip forgotten into some recess of his mind.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          Ironhorse woke with the sunlight that slipped in past the half closed curtains of his room.  He knew he was in a hospital before he opened his eyes, the antiseptic smell and soft snoring alerting him.  He lay for a moment, taking stock of his condition.  An IV dripped whatever clear fluids he needed into his arm, his left leg was elevated and wrapped, but it wasn't casted, so it wasn't broken.  His throbbing head and detached awareness of both injuries told him he wasn't completely over the concussion.

          Glancing around the plain white room, he smiled slightly at the crucifix that hung just to the right of the door.  He must be in a Catholic hospital.  It reminded him of his own room when he was a child.  His mother, a Catholic, had hung the same crucifixes in the rooms of all her children.

          Near the window, Blackwood sat in a large padded chair, his legs stretched out, and head slumped over against one side.  An occasional soft snore issued from the man.  Ironhorse studied the face carefully.  There were still pronounced dark circles under the man's eyes, and Harrison's hair was more disheveled than usual.  The colonel doubted the man had shaved in at least two days.

          The door opening pulled Ironhorse's attention away, and he grinned when Suzanne entered.  Glancing over at the sleeping man, she shook her head.  "Hi," she whispered.  Ironhorse nodded.  "Good to see you awake."

          "How long have I been here?"

          "Two days.  The doctor said you're going to be fine.  But you'll be a guest for at least two more days."

          The soldier stifled a groan.  He hated hospitals, but concussions were nothing to fool around with.  "Great," he muttered instead.

          Suzanne smiled and patted his cheek like he was a small child.  "Consider it payback for scaring us all half to death."

          "I am sorry about that," he said, his face coloring a healthy crimson.

          "What's to be sorry for?  You just fell off a cliff, landed on your head and survived all along for three days on an island."

          "Well, if I hadn't landed on my head, I wouldn't have hid from the squad when they came looking for me."

          "You hid?"

          The man's expression turned decided sheepish.  "I thought they were the enemy.  It wasn't until I woke up that night that I realized what had happened, but by then they'd already left."

          "I think the squad will be glad to hear that, Paul," she explained.  "They think they just missed you."

          "I'll talk to them when I get back to the Cottage.  How are you and Norton?"

          "Fine.  I mean it was hell there for a few days, but we're okay now.  You wouldn't have wanted us here two days ago, though.  Neither of us could stop smiling… or giggling."

          Ironhorse grinned.  It was good to have a family.  "And Harrison?"

          Suzanne's gaze moved to rest on the man.  "He's doing better.  It was touch and go for a while, though."

          Ironhorse nodded slightly.  He was already exhausted.  "I'll talk to him."

          "Not now, you won't," she corrected.  "Get some sleep.  We can't drag him out of here, so I'm sure he'll be waiting when you wake up."

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          Suzanne was right.  When Ironhorse woke the second time it was to find Blackwood helping a young nurse arrange a meal tray on a bedside stand.  "Well," the astrophysicist said.  "It's about time.  I was contemplating eating part of this myself."

          "Dr. Blackwood," the nurse said, "if you'd like something, we have a cafeteria on the first floor."

          The soldier held his grin in place.  She was serious, even if Blackwood wasn't.  After all, Harrison was a vegetarian and he was sure the gravy decorating his mashed potatoes was made from beef stock.  At least the food wouldn't finish what the alien had started.  Once she was finished, the nurse left the pair alone, disappearing out the door with a final half-scowl at the scientist.

          "Here, let me raise this up for you," Harrison said, pressing a button at the foot of the bed.  Ironhorse heard the hum before the whole apparatus contorted into what looked like a huge overstuffed chair someone had put sheets on.  By the time it was finished, Blackwood had moved the tray over in front of the man.  "Bon appetite.  The doctor said soft food for twenty-four hours, then they'll see about giving you some real food."

          "I'm going to have to have a talk with this doctor," the soldier grumbled.  Taking up the fork, Ironhorse ignored the rumbling in his stomach and tried the potatoes.  He was right, they were actually edible.  Amazing.  "What are you still doing here?" he asked the man.  "You look like a castaway yourself."

          Blackwood eased down into the chair he inhabited most of the time and grinned.  "I had to make sure you didn't sneak off."

          "Suzanne talked to you."

          "She did."

          "Teach me to open my mouth," he replied, in mock disgust.  Savoring several bites, Ironhorse finally looked up and met Blackwood's eyes.  "How are you?"

          "I'm not going to lie and say I'm fine, but I'm doing okay.  I'm still dealing with some things.  I want to talk to you about them, but not here.  When you're home."  Ironhorse nodded.  He was proud of the man.  Harrison had handled himself better than he'd anticipated.  "God, I missed you," the scientist said, his voice catching.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          Ironhorse fought back the impatience and waited for Suzanne to make sure she'd collected everything in his room and added it to the large duffel bag she carried.  Norton was waiting in the hall, showing off his voice-activated wheelchair for two small children, and Harrison was maneuvering the more traditional wheelchair into the room so the colonel could leave.

          "In you go," Blackwood said, punctuating the command with a sweeping gesture.  Ironhorse scowled but complied.

          "I think I have it all," Suzanne informed the scientist.

          "I didn't have that much here," the soldier countered.

          She smiled indulgently.  "But you're leaving with prescriptions, an ankle brace, Epsom salts, and a few more goodies to help you down the path to a total recovery."

          Ironhorse sighed.  When they got like this it was impossible.  "Are we driving back?" he asked, not particularly looking forward to it.

          "Nope," Blackwood said, but didn't elaborate as he wheeled Ironhorse into the hallway.

          "I have to go," Norton told the kids, spinning Gertrude around and rolling off after the threesome.  "So, the big guy's on wheels, huh?"

          "Not for long," he corrected.  "How are we getting home?"

          "We're sailing," Suzanne informed him.

          "Sailing?"

          "Yep," Norton said.  "Harrison told us how you like the water so we thought it would be best to take you home a relaxing way."

          Ironhorse hide a grin.  "Well, I appreciate that, but which one of you three knows anything about sailing?"

          Suzanne leveled the soldier with a stern look.  "I'll have you know I'm very good with a sheet," she said, using the appropriate name for the ropes.  "But we rented a sixty-three foot sailboat complete with three cabins, kitchen and a captain."

          "I see."

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          Easing out of the harbor and past the breakwater, Ironhorse and the others watched the Santa Barbara and Goleta coastlines pass by as they headed up the coast.  It was a beautiful day, and it was mid-afternoon before the captain lowered the sails and dropped anchor.  "What's up?" the colonel asked, awakening from the light sleep that had overtaken him.

          "Supper," Suzanne said, standing and heading below, Harrison following.

          Norton rearranged himself along the padded deck seat and watched the sun as it dropped lower to the horizon.  "The captain had some fresh albacore and who know what else down there, should be good."

          "We shouldn't be out of contact for so long," Ironhorse said, trying to convince himself.

          "Paul, you're not going to be kicking any alien butt for a few more days, and believe me, we all need this.  Thinking we'd lost you wasn't a fun time, for any of us," Suzanne told him.

          Ironhorse's cheeks colored.  "I know.  I'm sorry.  I didn't mean it that way."

          "We know," Norton said.  "Besides, Derriman can reach us if he needs to."

          "Oh?"

          "Yep.  See that boat off the port?"  The soldier looked, nodding at the large cabin cruiser.  "That's our backup."

          Ironhorse smiled and nodded.  "Smart.  Whose idea?"

          "Suzanne's, actually."

          "Here we go," Blackwood said, as he emerged carrying a plate with fish, salad, and boiled new potatoes.

          "Smells great," Norton enthused.

          With everyone seated with their food and a glass of wine, Blackwood raised his glass, saying, "To reunions."

          "Hear, hear," Suzanne concurred, and Ironhorse and Drake echoed it.

          The meal was eaten in relative silence, each simply savoring the company and the excellent cooking.  When they were through, the captain collected the dishes and headed down to clean up.  Suzanne and Norton entered into a spirited game of backgammon, and Harrison stood at the railing, gazing up at the stars.  After a time, Ironhorse excused himself.

          "I'm sorry, people, but I think I'm going to call it a night.  I appreciate this.  See you in the morning."

          "'Night," Drake called after him.

          "Sleep well," Suzanne added.

          "Here, let me help you," Blackwood said, reaching out to steady the man.

          Together they maneuvered down to the staterooms.  Harrison opened one room and held the door while Ironhorse entered.  It was bigger than the soldier expected, with a full sized bed, wardrobe, small dresser, nightstand, and an adjoining bath.  Walking to the bed, he sank down and smiled up at the scientist.  "I haven't been this tired in a long time."

          "Well, you're still not up to a hundred percent.  Remember that in a few days when you want to start back to full duty, will you?"

          "I'll try."

          Closing the door behind him, Blackwood walked over to stand in front of the man.  Kneeling down, he reached for one of the colonel's feet.

          "Hey!"

          "Paul, I'm just going to help you get your shoes off.  You look like you're ready to fall over."

          "Sorry," he replied sheepishly, allowing the scientist to remove his shoes and socks.  Meanwhile, Ironhorse managed to extract himself from his flannel shirt, leaving the white T-shirt on.  "That's fine," he said.

          "Lie down," Harrison told him.  "I'll get the rest."

          Ironhorse did as he was told, too tired to argue, and the astrophysicist unfastened the jeans and tugged them off.  He paused for a moment, studying the man's well muscled body.  There was still an ace bandage wrapped around the injured ankle and a few fading bruises on the man's thighs, but all in all, he was none the worse for the experience.  They'd been lucky once again.

Pulling the blanket down under the man, Harrison covered him.

          "I'll be in a little later."

          "'Kay," Paul said before his eyes slid closed and he was asleep.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          Ironhorse woke when Blackwood eased himself into the bed, trying carefully not to do just that.  Paul let him get comfortable before asking, "So, you all decided to call it a night, huh?"

          The scientist cursed softly under his breath.  "I'm sorry.  I didn't want to wake you up."

          "That's okay.  I feel much better."

          "You should, it's almost midnight.  The captain abandoned us hours ago.  I swear, this alien busting business has made night owls of Norton and Suzanne."

          "And you've always been weird."

          Blackwood smiled in the darkness.  "Just because I sleep one hour in every five, does not mean I'm weird, as you put it."

          "No," Paul countered, "but that on top of all your other habits does."

          "Some people you just can't please," the astrophysicist said, rolling over so he could look at the man.  Ironhorse was lying on his back, his profile visible in the dim light that reflected in through a porthole.  Blackwood felt his chest tighten.  "Paul?"

          The overly controlled tone told Ironhorse the man was upset.  "Harrison, it's over.  Everything's okay."

          "My God, we _left_ you out there."

          "No, I hid.  It wasn't your fault.  Everyone did exactly what they should have."  He rolled over, and pushed himself up on an elbow, pulling the covers off Harrison's bare chest.

          The curly-haired scientist scooted closer, and Ironhorse reached out, letting his fingertips run along the top of Blackwood's shoulders, dipping down the arms and back up again.  Goosebumps marked the path.  Cupping his hand at the back of Harrison's neck, Paul leaned forward and lightly brushed the waiting lips.  He paused, then repeated the move, only harder.

          Harrison's lips parted slightly and the tips of their tongues timidly explored the others'.  Paul moaned slightly.

          Reaching out, the astrophysicist helped Paul remove the t-shirt and then drew him closer, letting himself ride out the white-water flow of his emotions.  The fear and guilt fell away, each man's passion growing stronger.  The kiss became a subtle game of dominance, both men ebbing and flowing back and forth between aggressor and passive surrender.

          Ironhorse drew them over so Harrison lay pressed firmly against his side, the heat emanating from Blackwood's groin exciting him further.  It was the soldier who came up for air first.  Gasping a lungful of air, Ironhorse's hands roamed over his lover's chest, fingers trembling in building anticipation.

          "Ahhhh," he managed in a half-secured breath when Harrison reached out and ran his fingertips along the top of his thigh.  The hand paused, then moved over a hip and across the top of the waistband of the briefs the colonel wore, finally coming to rest on his captured, pulsing cock.  He pressed against Harrison's hand.

          "You're sure?" the scientist asked.

          "Stop asking and do something, Doctor."

          Blackwood chuckled.  It was a deep, bubbling sound that excited the soldier and he pressed against the man's hand.

          Harrison reached down and pulled the briefs off his partner's hips, freeing the erect cock.  Paul reached out and did likewise.  With several swift moves the two men were free of the last fragments of cloth and lying side by side, they touched, exploring, seducing and giving in to the seduction of the other.

          Reaching out, Blackwood took Ironhorse's hard cock in his hand, hefting the length, reestablishing a familiarity that he had thought lost forever.  "Gives a whole new meaning to the saying, 'big guy,'" he chuckled.

          Paul laughed, snuggling his face into the hollow of the man's shoulder and kissing the exposed neck.  "Feels good," he mumbled.

          The kissing traveled downward, over collarbones and chest and back up to the shoulders.  Harrison moaned, controlling the pace of the Cherokee's kisses and short licks by the tempo he set, rubbing along the man's shaft.

          The arrangement shifted, reversing the positions before either man realized it had happened, and Ironhorse set a slower, more relaxed pace, wanting the sensations that rose and fell in him to continue for as long as possible.  Reaching past the hard cock, he gently cupped Harrison's balls, kneading them gently.

          The man moaned in reply to the ministrations, his hips circling in small gyrations.  As Paul continued to work, the astrophysicist trembled, goose bumps rising on his skin.  Closing his eyes, Blackwood groaned low, giving in to the pleasure that threatened to overwhelm him in its intensity.

          Pressing Harrison back on the bunk, Paul set to work with a determined but gentle seduction.  He was in control now, his lover having given up any pretense of matching the dark-haired man in this coupling.  The absolute vulnerability Blackwood permitted Ironhorse to see moved the soldier more than he ever expected and he repaid that openness by wrapping it in as much pleasure as he could give.

          Both men knew they were rapidly approaching the end of their endurance.  Sensing the Harrison's impending climax, Paul let his kisses trail lower, stopping momentarily at the nipples and the hips, until he was able to capture the throbbing head in his mouth, dragging a startled gasp, followed by a low feral moan from the man.

          Nibbling, pulling and licking along the shaft, Ironhorse felt Harrison reach up and push his own back.  "No," he whispered.  "I want to."

          Ironhorse relaxed, letting the man lay him back and shift so their positions were reversed.  Bending down, Harrison kissed the man's lips, them down to the hollow of his throat.  His hands stroked the hard nipples, then the tight abdominal muscles.  The soldier groaned and arched against the achingly gentle hands.  Blackwood dropped lower, kissing across his lover's chest while his hands captured the waiting cock.  Finally Blackwood shifted, his mouth closing on Ironhorse.

          The colonel found Blackwood's own aching cock and begin rubbing in time with Harrison's bobbing head.  Their nearly frantic climax shook through the two men.  Harrison drank in the spent semen, surprised at the slightly sweet taste while he came against Ironhorse's bare hip.  They held on to each other, riding out the waves of pleasure until they ebbed into a calm satisfaction.

          Blackwood planted a last kiss on the softening cock, watching as it jumped in reply, then shifted on the bed so he could lie next to Paul.  Ironhorse was uncertain, but he reached out and gathered the scientist into his arms.  Harrison responded willingly, moving to fit his body along his lover's.  After a moment Ironhorse felt the warm string of a tear as it fell on his shoulder.

          "What?" he whispered.

          "I'm just glad I didn't lose you."

          Ironhorse held the man tighter.  "Me, too."

The End


End file.
